


Supply Closets

by muchmorethanaprincess



Series: We'll Figure It Out [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Ark AU, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, slight angst, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmorethanaprincess/pseuds/muchmorethanaprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has just finished her shift in medical and is walking through a deserted section of corridor when a hand grabs her elbow and yanks. She’s pulled through the door of a supply closet and pushed against the wall before she can blink.<br/>“What the-” she gets out before her mouth is covered by warm lips, and she moans because she knows those lips. She wasn’t really planning on seeing him today, but if he wants to go at it in a supply closet, well, she’s certainly willing.<br/>“Bellamy, hi,” she breathes when he finally pulls away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supply Closets

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling terribly uninspired to write lately, so I decided to do some smut. Hope you like it!

Clarke has just finished her shift in medical and is walking through a deserted section of corridor when a hand grabs her elbow and yanks. She’s pulled through the door of a supply closet and pushed against the wall before she can blink.

“What the-” she gets out before her mouth is covered by warm lips, and she moans because she knows those lips. She wasn’t really planning on seeing him today, but if he wants to go at it in a supply closet, well, she’s certainly willing.

“Bellamy, hi,” she breathes when he finally pulls away.

“Hi,” he says with a grin before he swoops down to catch her lips again. His hands push the bottom of her scrub top up just enough to graze his fingertips over her hips, and Clarke shivers into him. She twines her fingers through his hair in retaliation, and pulls steadily until he groans into her mouth.

“Are you on shift?” She asks when he moves to nuzzle her neck.

“No,” Bellamy mumbles into her skin, “I’m off for the night.”

“My mom will be wondering where I am.” Clarke means that they should get to it, but Bellamy takes his hands off her and moves away.

“Okay,” he says, his voice hard and difficult to discern. It’s Clarke’s least favorite thing about him. For as long as she’s known Bellamy, she still can’t quite read exactly what his voice means when he closes it off and speaks in clipped, stony sentences. The emotions underneath range anywhere from frustrated to disappointed to so angry he has to hold himself back from blowing up at someone, and the only way Clarke can find out which is to take her chances and push a little. It’s always been a good thing that she isn’t easily intimidated.

Bellamy seems to be waiting for her to step away from the wall and leave, watching her with dark, dilated eyes in the dim space. But Clarke doesn’t want to leave, not yet at least, not until she’s had her fill of Bellamy, because they haven’t gotten the chance to do this in at least a week, and she doesn’t know when the next time will be. So she reaches for his belt loops and drags him back against her, kissing him fiercely until he relaxes.

Clarke smooths her hands over his shoulders and nips at his bottom lip.

“I just meant that we can’t take our time, that’s all.”

He nods against her, and her hands resting on his biceps dig into his muscles when he sucks at the skin under her ear.

“No marks,” she pants out in reminder.

“I know,” he says, annoyance in his voice, but Clarke thinks there’s a bit of fondness in it too.

Clarke can feel his irritation nearly every time they’re together like this. It thrums under his skin when they kiss, and she recognizes the desperate way he thrusts into her, wanting her but unsatisfied with it all the same. He wasn’t like this at first, too wrapped up in the happiness of Clarke offering herself to him to think about anything else, gentle and careful in the way he held her, content just to get something that he hadn’t ever expected.

It changed sometime after the first month, and Clarke prefers to think that it’s because he wants her in more ways than just stolen sex in supply closets, even though they’ve never actually discussed it.

They decided years ago that they couldn’t openly be friends, because if Clarke’s parents looked into Bellamy’s life too much, it might lead them to discover Octavia, and neither of them was willing to risk that. So they’d stayed close quietly, spending what time they could together, Clarke visiting his apartment often so that she could keep Octavia company too, and she let her parents believe that she and “that older boy from Factory” that she’d been friends with had drifted apart.

So three months ago, when Bellamy was whining that he was never going to get laid (because bringing girls home was too risky with Octavia under the floor, not to mention kind of a dick move as an older brother, and because pursuing any kind of real relationship was also too risky for Octavia) Clarke interrupted him and asked if he wanted to just get it over with and sleep with her.

Bellamy nearly choked on his own breath and looked at Clarke like she’d grown another head.

“I mean, you’re acting so pathetic about that fact that you’ve never been with a girl, and I’m right here. You could have sex with me. I’ll teach you everything I know.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, and Bellamy managed a strangled, “yeah, okay,” and then Clarke was stripping her clothes off and telling him where to touch her and what felt best. Bellamy proved to be an avid student, and ever since they’d been catching each other whenever they could find privacy, desperate for more.

“Hey,” he says, running his teeth down her cheek, and Clarke realizes she’s been still for too long. “Where’d you go?” he asks when she looks up at him.

“Sorry,” she shakes her head to clear it. “I was just thinking about the first time we did this.”

“That bad huh?” He says self-deprecatingly.

She tilts her head, gazes at him through dazed eyes. “You were good then too. But my mom really is going to be wondering where I am.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Tell her you were with Finn. Abby _loves_ Finn.”

Clarke frowns at the sarcasm in his voice. “Don’t be stupid. I’ll tell her I was with Wells.”

Bellamy’s face lightens a little, and Clarke doesn’t want to talk anymore, so she grabs his ass and pulls his hips into hers, “Now are you going to fuck me, or what?”

He nods eagerly as he leans down to kiss her, and she lets herself get lost in it, arching her back to push her chest against his. She pulls his shirt off so she can run her hands over his chest, scratching him lightly with her nails, which makes him shudder against her with a moan.

Clarke feels arousal rush through her at the noise. When she rocks her hips against him, he takes the cue and pushes one hand into her scrub bottoms, groaning when his long fingers make contact with her wet heat. His quick strokes on her clit have Clarke pushing against his hand for more, and she stifles her moans by sucking a bruise on the side of his neck. She yelps in surprise when he hitches one of her legs up to his hip and pushes two fingers into her. Bellamy laughs against her hair, pausing to make sure she’s okay.

“I’m fine, you just surprised me,” she says, “please continue.”

He does, working her clit until she comes with her teeth biting into his shoulder.

The second he releases her, she’s tugging his pants down, shoving his boxers to his ankles with them, and grabbing his cock.

“Clarke,” he groans, and that might be her favorite part. The way he says her name when she’s touching him, the way his voice catches in his throat, the way his breathing is heavy and purposeful, fills her with a ridiculous kind of warmth. She had her fair share of sexual escapades before Bellamy, and most were good at satisfying her. But the way she feels with Bellamy pushing her against the wall is something entirely different. She’s aroused of course, but she also feels a strange gratification running through her veins. It feels like comfort, and it feels right.

Bellamy pushes at her scrubs and Clarke shimmies out of them. Then he’s grabbing her thighs and lifting them around his waist, asking her if she’s ready, and pushing into her.

They moan in tandem at the feeling of him filling her, pausing to savor it before Bellamy pulls out slowly and plunges back in. Clarke lays sloppy kisses all over his face as he picks up the pace, and relishes the sensation of his large hands ( _God I love his hands_ , she thinks) gripping her ass to hold her up. She pushes her hips to meet his movements, moaning when he brushes her clit.

“God, Clarke,” he says brokenly with his face buried against her neck, and she shivers at his hot breath fanning against her skin.

“Bellamy,” she breathes back, letting her head fall back against the wall as he thrusts into her more forcefully. He rubs one thumb against her clit in small circles, which is nice, but Bellamy’s being quiet today, and nothing gets her off quite like the sounds he makes in pleasure, so she pulls the hair above his neck with one hand and presses her nails into his shoulder with the other.

He lets out a moan, and Clarke matches it.

“I want to hear you,” she says, breathless, and Bellamy pulls his face away from her neck to look at her. She meets his eye contact, and he must appreciate whatever he sees, because with his next thrust, he groans raggedly. Clarke feels it all the way to her toes.

From there, neither of them can keep quiet. Bellamy grunts and moans with every jolt of his hips, and Clarke nearly shouts when he hits a particularly good spot inside her.

He’s kissing her neck, mumbling “Clarke,” in between moans when she comes, whimpering his name, and he pulls back to watch her face, brow furrowed and eyes clenched closed as her back arches in pleasure. She doesn’t even notice how hard her hand is clutching his hair until she comes back to herself and sees the blazing look in Bellamy’s eyes.

She runs her fingers over his scalp soothingly, pressing a line of kisses over his cheekbone, and he comes a few seconds later. The relieved groan that leaves his mouth makes Clarke feel satisfied in a way that the orgasm didn’t.

Once Bellamy catches his breath, he pulls out and sets her back on her feet, but he doesn’t step away immediately the way he normally does, to give her space to dress and leave. Instead he plants his hands against the wall on either side of her head and looks down.

Clarke’s sure he won’t meet her eyes until she does something, so she turns her head and bites his wrist playfully. His face shoots up in surprise, and she grins at him. But he won’t smile back.

“Bellamy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit. You think you can lie to your best friend and not get caught?”

“Is that what we are?”

“Best friends? Of course. You know me better than anyone.”

He nods.

“Bellamy, whatever it is, you can tell me.” She’s frowning now, because Bellamy’s not necessarily the most happy person on the Ark, but he’s usually at least a bit happier around her, especially since they started having sex.

“I just-” he starts, then shakes his head. “I just want more than this with you.”

She attempts to work through the potential multiple meanings of that sentence. “Do you mean you want to be with someone else?” She asks slowly, trying not to panic. They aren’t in a relationship, and objectively she knows that, but Clarke doesn’t think she can handle watching him go after someone else after he’s been doing this with her.

“No! Jesus, no, I don’t want someone else. I just, I wish this could be real. I want you in my bed, I want your mom to be pissed because she knows you’re with me, I want this to be more than supply closets every week because we can’t even talk in public. But I can’t have any of that, because I have to protect Octavia.”

Clarke’s heart swells because she wants those things too. But she knows the risks, and she’s willing to be patient. “Because _we_ have to protect Octavia. You’re not doing this alone, Bellamy.”

He nods, still frowning. Clarke pushes up on her toes to press her lips against his. “We’ll figure it out,” she says.

They pull their clothes back on, and before she leaves, Clarke kisses Bellamy long and hard, trying to show him that she’s in this with him for good. He’s smiling again afterward, so she guesses she did well enough.

 _We’ll figure it out_ , she tells herself as she walks down the hall. _We have to_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely the smuttiest thing I've ever written, so let me know what you think!  
> EDIT: This fic now has a sequel! It's called Drifting Over the Edge and located in the We'll Figure It Out series with this fic. Check it out if you're interested.


End file.
